Emblematic Ruin by Verge
In a not-so-distant Belfast bunker one man has been toiling away in order to subtly eradicate the proliferating vulgar and damaging symbols that infiltrate our daily existence. He is the conduit of the first track, smelting the unfiltered emblems that harm and cut into tiny specks the crumbs of identity that we have managed to salvage from cack-handed henchmen of chronic misuse, commodification, and capitalisation.

In doing so Andre Gough – the Irish producer behind Verge – has crafted a soundscape that, paradoxically, seems as tied to rolling hills and crystalline coasts as it does to the smog-hatted towns built out of sign-splattered concrete and looming grey steel. This is music for lengthy train journeys that splice countries in twain, carve up the countryside and blink through the stench of cities.

With his Avian debut, Verge joins the curious likes of SHXCXCHCXSH, The Empire Line, and 400ppm on Shifted’s consistently tantalising label. Unlike the often drubbing sounds of the imprint’s head, Gough takes a slightly more restrained approach to his sonic explorations whilst nevertheless still imbuing each track with both menace and an unnerving swagger.

Straining drones are wrenched out of what seems to be sorrow soaked heartstrings. If a Raime set was inexplicably interrupted by an unmapped cascading waterfall, the resultant auditory deluge wouldn’t be too far from that on display on Emblematic Ruin. This is music dripping with regret, woe, and a bitter melancholy. At times soothing, at other times unsettling, but always emotionally engaging.